


Mourning

by HaleHole (SweetFanfics)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-05
Updated: 2013-08-05
Packaged: 2017-12-22 12:53:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/913437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetFanfics/pseuds/HaleHole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are 5 stages of grief (7 if you want to be really picky). He knew this, has known it for years and years (‘look after your dad, promise me that you will Stiles’). And just like last time, denial wasn’t ever an option.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mourning

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt "whichever pairing you want (honestly, I don't care); mourning; "Why would you do this to me?""

There are 5 stages of grief (7 if you want to be really picky). He knew this, has known it for years and years ( _‘look after your dad, promise me that you will Stiles’_ ). And just like last time, denial wasn’t ever an option.

It was a luxury that hadn’t been afforded to him when his mom had died a long (‘ _so long, too long’_ ) death. There was only cold, dull acceptance of the fact that ( _soon so soon too soon)_ he’d have to say good bye to the gentle hands that have been tucking him into bed every night, to the warm kisses that soothed away his fears. 

In the same manner, there was no room for denials when he was stuck in the middle of nowhere, trying to keep in Derek’s insides from spilling out through his slick fingers (‘ _too warm too slick too much blood oh God there’d be soo much blood on his hands’_ ) And the worse part? They both  _know_ that nothing short of a miracle’s was gonna save them ~~Derek~~. 

He’d tried though. God _knows_ that he had tried. Tried to push out weak promises and choked on each and everyone. He hadn’t been able to give Derek the simplest of reassurances that they’d be alright, that help was on the way, that Scott was probably close by.

But he and Derek had been too aware that they’d be nothing but empty promises. Pretty lies in white lace and ribbon that were turning dark, darker, black with blood and aconite poisoining. 

The worst part was probably how resigned Derek seemed. Accepting Stiles’ quiet panic, not believing his choked whispers but smiling a tiny half smile (maybe it was more of a painful frown but Stiles wanted to remember it as a smile, chose to remember it as a smile) as though he appreciated the gesture anyways.

As he watched the others reverently lower the shrouded body into the dirt grave, Stiles had to bite down hard on his tongue to keep from yelling. 

Fuck denials, he’ll settle for anger every damned time.

He wanted to go to Lydia, get her help in tracking Peter down and force them both to tell him how they’d successfully managed the older werewolf’s resurrection so that he can repeat the ritual. Just so that he can rage at Derek and kill him all over again for being so stupid ( _‘so fucking stupid you stupid fucking martyr’_ ). For leaving ~~him~~ them behind. For dying in his arms like they were more than friends or something.

( _“Why would you do this to me?” he wanted to yell at the cold body and dead eyes. “Like I havent lost enough people already and you go and die on me! Do you know how many nightmares I’ve had about that?!”_ )

His jaw ached as he watched Scott hand Isaac a long length of rope, their stoic faces cracking as the wolfsbane rope burnt into the skins of their palms. Stiles knew that he ought probably help, step forward and help them set up the spiral that would serve as protection for the late Alpha’s grave as much as mark their promise for revenge against the hunter's who were responsible.

But his skin burned hot with rage, fanned by the cool breeze that flitted over the cold ground. “Stiles.” Scott finally said, looking tired and far older than his 18 years. “A little help?”

Bile rose up his throat, thick and bitter. Stiles forced himself to swallow it down before he pressed his lips together and shook his head jerkily at his best friend, who was an actual Alpha now. He couldn’t. He just… couldn’t. “You guys do it.” Stiles replied in a scratchy voice. “You guys were his pack.”

The sad upturn to Scott’s lips coupled with the soft look in his brown eyes made Stiles' anger falter momentarily. In that one terrible moment, Stiles wanted to rage at the world for being so damned unfair (wasn’t it enough that he’d lost his mom and then lost Erica and Boyd and now _Derek_? when was going to stop? was it _ever_ going to stop?). “Yeah but, you guys were kinda friends right?”

Kinda friends was just about right Stiles supposed. Personally he preferred frenemies or snark buddies who sometimes had to spend time together because of extenuating circumtances. 

Scott remained standing patiently, continuing to hold out the twisted rope out for him to take. Isaac was looking at him, face pale and devoid of all emotions except quiet grief. Swallowing harshly once more, Stiles took one step forward and wondered.

What if he had called Scott sooner for help?

What if he had gone in with more weapons than Scott's baseball bat?

What if he hadn’t forgotten his little box of magic tricks that had different kinds of wolfsbane stashed away?

What if he hadn’t listened to Derek when the man had told him to not tell anyone where he was going?

 _‘Coulda woulda shoulda.’_  Stiles intoned to himself bitterly, following the thin spiral dug into the ground. ‘ _Didn’t_ ’.


End file.
